


Despoiled

by azryal



Category: Vikings RPF
Genre: First Time, It's an AU, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Porn, RPF, actual porn, it's just an AU, literally porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 01:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2369513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azryal/pseuds/azryal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A weekend off from the sex shop is always welcome. There's a case of Carona in your fridge, a half a carton of smokes in your cupboard, and 48 hours of quality alone time. You use half your paycheck to get a new toy and some tingly lube, and on the way out you see a DVD you don't recognize. </p><p>First time, reality porn isn't normally your thing, but this one just looks....special.....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Despoiled

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in a bit of a frenzy last summer. It's also a bit of an experiment in style, written in second person POV. Hope it works out for you.
> 
> Inspired by The Interview.

The cover is nice and it catches your eye. It should be stale, the pretty boy taken by the big buff dude trope has been done a million times, but this one…maybe it’s the name. “Despoiled” leaves little to the imagination, after all. Maybe it’s the quality of the screen captures on the back because, _wow_ , when did porn go HD? It changes everything when the picture is crisp and clear, no foggy shadows hiding the faces. The simplicity of it is a plus, too. It’s a first time video and while that normally means first time on film, there’s something about the look in that boy’s eyes that convinces you he’s for real.

He’s not really a boy, even though that’s what they’re called in the business these days. He’s legal, probably even old enough to drink. His eyes tell a story of “I’ve nevers” instead of “I haves” and it draws you in. He’s fucking pretty, too. Prettier than half the chicks you’ve seen but he still looks like a guy. He’s got a scruffy beard and curly dark hair, thick dark brows that curve over his unbelievably big blue eyes, and a rose pink mouth that looks like it belongs on a toddler. His skin is cream and peaches, blushing across his cheeks in the front photo and all the way down to his nipples on the back. That’s where you see his body, slender and sturdy and all wrapped in that creamy skin. He’s got fuzz on his legs, his forearms, and a smattering across his lightly muscled chest. The hair under his arms is thicker but it looks soft. There’s no shot of his cock, because there’s another man’s hands crossed over it.

This is the big buff dude portion of the show. Honest-to God, he’s a fucking Viking. Half-a-head taller and twice as wide, the center line of his body is blocked by the boy. He’s draped over and around, one thigh cocked up on something off-screen to press against the pretty one’s hip. It’s nice and thick and the skin is tanned a beautiful honey color. He’s got long dark blond hair, well past his shoulders and streaked with brighter gold and darker browns. There’s a beard, perfectly groomed and trimmed to a classy ‘v’ shape at his chin. His eyes are so pale they almost disappear but they still stare at you from the old-school jewel case with such intensity you feel it in the soles of your feet.

Oddly, there’s no summary. No breakdown of the same old bullshit you read on all the movies as they come in; “He learns to love cock! Watch him take all 10 inches! Cum eating! Bare-back frenzy!” Jesus Christ, if people really talked like that they’d not need to make the movies, right? This one just has the boy and the man on the front, both clothed and sitting close on a sofa. They’re looking into each other’s eyes like its Christmas and Halloween and their birthdays all at once and they found each other in the tissue paper. The back has the nude shot in the center, Creamy facing forward with Goldy behind him, wrapped around the glorious ivory Adonis like a snake.

Four shots from the video bracket this one. A hot kiss that has teeth and tongue and a giant honey colored hand in those chocolate curls. Then shirts off and that hand is now clutching at the back of Creamy’s jeans. Goddamn that ass is round. You didn’t know they came like that on white boys. Then they’re naked on the bed and Creamy has lovely dark hairs in his crack. The pink underside of his balls barely shows at that angle and damn if that doesn’t get something happening in your pants. He’s on his hands and knees, presenting himself for Goldy, mouth open and eyes wide…yeah, it’s one of those shots. It’s real nice, even if you don’t get to see Goldy’s cock in the frame. The fourth one is a close up of their faces, Goldy on top with Creamy the bottom, of course. Goldy’s biting his lip and looking at Creamy’s face so hungry-like; you can tell he wants everything. He wants to eat this boy whole. Creamy’s head is turned to the side, towards the camera, but he’s not seeing it. His eyes are squeezed shut and fuck if there aren’t tears there, shining on his cheek and in the dark crescent of his lashes.

That’s the final selling point, right there. You pick up “Despoiled” and take it to the counter with your new toy and the special tingly lube. It’s gonna be a fun day. Fuck the beach. You don’t want skin cancer, yeah?

 

“So, tell us about yourself.”

Creamy’s wearing a grey polo and is just as fuckable as he is on the cover. He looks into the camera all shy and sweet. “Um…I’m George. I’m from London. I moved to LA two months ago.”

Holy shit the voice. The accent. Oh, fucking Christ, the boy’s an _angel_. A real, live _angel._

“And what brings you to Sinning Monk Studios?”

Sinning Monk? Never heard of them. With guys like this, you fucking well should have.

“You know _that_.” George’s eyes flash and his pink mouth splits into a grin.

There’s a chuckle. “Yes, yes. Now tell the folks watching. They want to hear you talk. Tell them what you told me.”

George’s cheeks darken. “Gus…”

“Come on, now. You wanted to play with the big boys. Big boys aren’t cowards.”

That shuts the angel up for a minute. He looks at the floor, then back up without moving his head. Those fucking eyes are huge.

“I’m a virgin.”

Bull. Shit.

“Really?” Gus’s voice echoes your thought. He must be the director. This sort of reality porn always has the director’s big head in it, somewhere.

“You believed me yesterday,” George sniped, fiddling with his water bottle. He’s looking at his knees, turning a darker pink every second.

“I believe you now, but you have to convince your viewers. Most of them wouldn’t know a virgin if they stepped on one.”

“How do I do that? It’s not like I have a hymen.” Oh, he has a bit of spirit. That’s always nice.

“Okay, okay…tell what you have done, then.”

“Hand jobs, some oral and frotted. Shit like that. But I’ve never…”

 “You’ve never been fucked.” That would be Gus again.

George bites his lip and shakes his head, eyes back on his knees. There it is. Oh, God. There’s that look. He _really is_ a goddamned virgin and you’re gonna watch him get his cherry popped.

Wow, that lube must be working real good. You’re ready and Goldy isn’t even on screen yet.

There’s some commotion in the background. George looks and lights up like fireworks. Even so, He’s all shy again, watching someone come closer and chewing on his lip. _Someone_ …hah, it’s Goldy, of course. He’s got on nice slacks in dark blue and a dark green hoodie that looks like it’s made of silk jersey. It clings to his shoulders, arms, and pectorals, draping all sexy like.

George sure appreciates it. He’s practically glowing.

“Hi, I’m Travis,” Goldy says, looking into the camera as he sits next to George on the sofa. He casually drapes an arm over the angel and rubs his shoulder with one big hand. He turns his head and whispers, “Hi. Sorry I’m late.”

George looks up at him with fucking stars in his eyes. Maybe they’re not so close in height after all because like this George is positively tiny. He grins and glances to the other side of the room at the sound of someone coughing.

“You two met yesterday, right, and you connected immediately,” Gus is saying.

Travis hasn’t looked up yet, still staring at the blushing angel. “Yeah,” is all he says.

“But you have some questions…” Gus continues.

Nodding, still staring, Travis asks, “You have something you wanna tell me?”

George looks confused, his lips pursing before he shakes his head.

“Tell me why you’re here.”

George shrugs a little. Looks away. He’s distracted by whomever is across the room and starts laughing. He can’t speak for a minute, but he eventually turns back to Travis. The fingers of Travis’ hand start tapping on his shoulder.

“My friend over there says you know me.”

Travis’ words make George the prettiest shade of red a white boy could be. He looks into the camera, eyes big and begging someone to save his ass. Now, despite his smile, George is shooting daggers at the friend across the room. He’s bright fucking red all the way down into his polo. He turns back to Travis, who props his elbow up on the arm of the sofa and leans his head on his hand. He’s tapping his fingers on George again.

“C’mon, Georgie.”

George is giggling, incessantly. He has to take a drink of water. When he turns back, he licks his lips, nervously. Travis is watching. He’s watching everything the angel does.  

“He said you told him I was your first wet dream, back in the day. Back when I used to model. Did you come on the Valentino ad? Did you smear it on my face and my naked ass?” _God-a’mighty_ , Travis could make you come just with his voice. “That’s what I’m going to do to you, Georgie.”

Oh, the angel is looking at him again. With his pretty little mouth open.

Travis does what any healthy, sane human would do. His hand lifts from George’s shoulder and plunges it into those messy curls. He pulls, tilting George’s head back, and goes in for a kiss. This is the one from the back, all wet and deep. There’s a breath for them both and you can see their tongues moving together and their teeth when they open more and go back in. You’re rocking on your seat. Reaching for the rewind.

After watching that four or five more times, you let it play.

“I can’t believe I get to be the first one to fuck you,” Travis says, and it’s low and hot and in your gut. Fuck only knows what it’s doing to George.

It’s time to find out.

 

 

You take a break for a beer and a smoke. For a minute, you think about lifting the ban on smoking inside, just so you can enjoy the video while you suck on some CO, but your head is still mostly clear. So, out you go into the sticky heat. You’re already starting to sweat, just from the anticipation. Which is funny, really. It’s just a video. You’ve seen hundreds. Maybe thousands. But this one is different. Special.

It’s fucking beautiful. It’s art. It’s goddamn poetry in motion. And you haven’t even seen the fucking yet.

Back in the air conditioning, you get another beer and set yourself down. You’ve stretched this out long enough so you pick up the remote and press play.

The scene fades in on a bedroom. It’s one of those fancy modern things, all white walls with no decoration, black circle of a rug on the white carpet, white light fixtures on the wall above a fucking yacht of a bed that looks like it came out of Cribs or some shit. Its platform base and headboard are both upholstered in black leather, real, too, from the sheen of it. The black sheets look like they cost a million bucks. It’s pretty but it’s empty. Where are those groans coming from?

Finally, there, up against the wall. Travis has George pinned with his wrists above his head and is trying to crawl inside, through his mouth. They’re doing some pretty heavy rubbing. Travis has his knees bent, one of them shoved between the angel’s thighs. It looks like he’s all that’s holding George up now, and if he stepped back, let go, George would fall boneless to the floor. But the big man keeps him against the wall, grinding their hips together so hard both of their shirts have rucked up past their stomachs.

George is so fucking pale, he almost blends with the white paint. Except for the flush that has worked its way from below the waist of his skinny jeans to turn his flat tummy pink. There’s no rock hard abs, not like Travis has – _Christ_ – but it’s lean, a little concave, and you can see the bones just barely over the limp, knotted belt and denim. You just know that Travis wants his hands there, wants to dig his fingers in to bruise and scratch in that hollow while he pulls the angel back onto his dick. It’s sure as hell what you want to do.

Damn. Time to get naked.

 

 

You shuck the rest of your clothes while the show is paused. When it starts up again, Travis has let go of George’s arms and has his paws up underneath the grey polo. George is twitching, holding on to those bulging biceps and humping up Travis’ thigh. He’s making high pitched little squeals that are loud enough to hear even around the tongue in his mouth. A close up on his chest and the movement of Travis’ hands underneath and you know his nipples are getting some serious treatment. Travis must twist a little too much because he breaks out of the kiss and yells, his body jerking but still trapped.

Travis laughs, all evil and sadistic. It gives you chills and makes sweat break out on your upper lip at the same time.

George’s shirt comes up and off, leaving his curly hair fluffy and sprouting in every direction. The look on his face, of lust mixed with chagrin, is fuck-me adorable. Hot. And Travis likes it. He puts one hand on George’s throat to hold him still, pressing him back against the wall and leans away from him. His eyes move over George’s face and down his chest. It’s the chest of a very young man who’s moved some heavy things, giving him some lift to his pecs, a little definition and some thickness. He’s not a builder, but he’s not a wimp, either. He’s so white the sprinkling of hair looks very dark, even against the blush.

Travis is licking his lips. With the tip of his tongue caught between his teeth, he uses his free hand to tweak one of George’s rosy, pointed nipples. He twists it until the angel cries out again, his back flattening to the wall like it wants to break through to escape. His face is precious, scrunched up in confused pain and pleasure. He looks like he wants to cry, but he bites at his bottom lip and pants through it.

Travis’ hand flattens and runs down, smoothing over the fluttering stomach. He scratches at the dip above the waistband before tugging at the belt. It comes loose like it was waiting for his touch. Travis pops the button, slipping his fingers in and down.  He leans in again, and the camera closes in on their lips so you can see Travis’ tongue poking into George’s mouth. In and out and slick with spit, like they’re fucking, and George starts moaning a little in between breaths. The camera pans down and stops crotch-level and the guy holding it must be a pro ‘cause the angle is perfect. You can see Travis’ hand bulging out the denim but not a finger. Only the pre-jizz-shiny head of George’s cock peeking out over the top.

“Holy Christ,” you mutter, wiping a hand down your face. The lube you used earlier to take the edge off has to have quit working, and there’s more tingling than even that could account for, anyway. Why is this so fucking hot?

George has hold of Travis’ shirt now, using it for leverage, twisting it every which way as he pushes up into Travis’ hand. He’s got his eyes closed and his mouth open. You can see his tongue working at the edge of his teeth as his moans get louder and louder. “T-travis!” he cries out. “I’m…”

“Let me have it, baby. Gimme that come,” Travis growls and works harder in George’s jeans.

George goes quiet for a minute, his hips moving fast and rough. The camera has pulled back a little, catching Travis’ backside from thighs up. Then it pans in and down, so you can see what Travis sees. George’s eyes go wide, then squinty, and he makes a whining kind of grunt that says it all. He arches off of the wall as jizz shoots all the way to his ribs.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Travis breathes. He sounds like he’s stoned, or in some sort of trance. “You’re fucking beautiful…Jesus Christ, you’re gorgeous.”

And you press pause. Fuck not smoking in the house.

There’s no fade out or edit. It never cuts away from them again. The camera angle changes to the full room view and you see them against the far wall. George is still huffing and puffing and holding onto Travis’s shirt for dear life. Travis wraps him up in those big arms and holds him close, tight, and starts walking towards the bed. He’s whispering in George’s ear, too low to hear. The sound that comes out of George is plenty good enough to guess what’s being said. They turn and Travis has a hand on his ass, his fingers digging through the denim, lifting him up on his toes. Turning again, he’s flung back on the bed and lands with a little yip.

Travis’ chuckle would win awards for wickedness.

While George is pulling himself together, Travis kicks off his shoes. He waits until the other is looking at him again before reaching over his head to pull his shirt off. George goes quiet, watching, all eyes and mouth and oh-my-god-is-he-really-real all over his pretty face. Travis pauses, lets his fingers drift over the outline of his cock, which is hard and ready in his trousers.

Camera angle change again, this time beside the bed so you get them both in profile. Travis opens the fly and buttons and lets the fabric fall. His piece springs out and up, bouncing up to his stomach. It’s impressive, not scary to you but you’ve seen a lot. It’s thick and a little longer than average, red and shiny where the head is poking out. But George gasps, loud enough to hear on camera. Travis smiles and takes it with one hand, pulling the foreskin all the way back, watching George gulp. Lick his lips. Then look back up at Travis’ face with his big eyes.

“You ever have a man’s cock in your mouth, Georgie?” Travis asks, jerking his cock slow. He watches the changes on George’s face as it goes from guilt (staring at his cock like it’s ice cream in August), surprise (talking? oh…there’s talking), injured pride (I have _so_ ) and stepping out of the slacks to kick them away. “I don’t mean one of those college boys’ dicks. They’re all skinny and new. They’ve got no weight to them. No heat.”

George looks a little put out. He grits his teeth and his forehead wrinkles. He starts to say something but Travis cuts him off.

“Come here. Wrap your fingers around mine. You’ll see.”

Scooting down to the end of the bed, George’s face is now a mix of fear, annoyance, and mouthwatering want. He reaches out slowly, too slow for Travis who takes his hand and makes it grip, hard. He jacks it with both of their hands, his other one moving to George’s hair.

“Feel it? How it’s hot and alive? It’s hungry, Georgie. It wants your mouth,” Travis purrs, tugging George close.

To tell the truth, you usually fast-forward through bj scenes. Oral is fun when you’re doing it, but, unless it’s a rape fantasy video and hard and nasty, watching it is pretty dull. It’s the same old thing, right? Why waste time? It’s like watching a cooking show on hamburgers. It’s why you stopped buying videos to begin with, and stick to internet downloads, because the scenes all got so played out.

Oh, but watching George open up and take the head, his eyes bright and happy and spaced out…that’s The Shit. You back it up and watch it again, just that moment, to see George’s tongue flatten over his bottom teeth and lip and hear the little moan that gets out before his face is crammed with cock. Travis pushes way in, not all the way, but far enough that George’s hands fly up to grab his thighs. He pulls back out slow, still holding the angel’s head where he wants it. They go at this for a minute before Travis pulls out and rubs his wet dick over George’s face.

“Keep licking,” he says so George keeps his tongue out, flicking across the underside and lapping at the golden fuzz of Travis’ balls. “That’s good, good…fuck yeah…”

Your hand is already busy. You don’t even need any of the lube.

Travis is fucking that sweet, sweet mouth again. He’s pushing, testing George’s limits and his gag reflex. The angel does a respectable job, nothing all that astonishing, but he’s trying so hard. He lets Travis choke him, lets the water leak from this eyes without a thought to wipe them away. Until there’s a cough, cut off by the thick head of Travis’ cock in his throat. Then he has to push, to fight against the hold on his head, while his face starts to darken and his eyes tear up for real. Travis doesn’t let go right away. He grunts and holds George there as long as he can. Finally, George’s body gets into it and he convulses.

George has to take a minute. He fights down the urge to puke and noisily gulps air while Travis rubs his head. He looks caught between crying and running away. His face is all screwed up like a kid about to throw down a tantrum. Travis wipes at his cheeks and eyes, thumbs away the drool on his chin, and smiles so sweet when George shudders. “You’re good, for a kid. You’ll be one helluva cock sucker someday.”

Before George can say anything to that, he’s pushed onto his back. Travis drops to his knees and goes to work on the damp front of the boy’s jeans. George just cranes his neck to watch, staring and panting. Pretty much the same thing you’re doing.

He tugs the trousers down. They get as far as his knees and you get a look at his groin and thighs. There’s more gorgeous black hair, untrimmed and wild and, really, virginal. The fuzz spreads out and up, marching in a line to his belly button and en mass across the tops of his legs. The real surprise is the boy’s cock, which is bigger than you expected. Thicker, longer, not as big as Travis’ but certainly one you’d feel the next day. If he knew how to use it. You suspect he’ll be getting a lesson in that, starting now.

“Let me show you how a man takes it,” Travis breathes, and bends his head.

 _Whoa_.

The rules of gay porn are that the big buy, the top, doesn’t give head unless it’s role-reversal kink. Obviously, Travis gives no fucks at all about rules. He takes George’s cock in his mouth and sucks it so hard his cheeks hollow out. He looks like a Halloween skull for a second, until he drops his jaw and goes all the way down. His nose buries into the bushy curls at the base and George sort of…gurgles. It would be funny if it wasn’t so electrifying. Then he sucks back up, pulls away to let his audience, George, the camera, and you, see the tip of his tongue forcing itself into the piss slit.

“Oh, oh, oh…ggggggGOD!” George all but screams. He’s arched up off of the million dollar sheets, his hands full of them, and your brain switches on long enough to hope he’s done some BDSM vids ‘cause…damn. What the bastards at Kink.com would do to this kid is something worth thinking about. Bathroom gang rape, nightclub appetizer, police brutality; all the stereotypical fantasies take on a scorching freshness with him as the victim.  Or just turn him over to your man, Nic Moretti, and let that sadistic hottie go to town on him. Hmmm…that shit right there is good fodder for dreams tonight.

Travis is down on him again and George is whimpering, writhing, and crying again. “Oh, wait… _ooohh_ , I’m gonna…c-“

As the last word starts, Travis pulls off. Completely off and back and he takes a handful of George’s balls and yanks. The resulting scream is worthy of an Eli Roth picture.

“Not yet,” Travis says, laughing. He wraps his other hand around George’s dick and squeezes there, too.

George’s voice takes on a shrill, boyish pitch. Travis soothes him by sucking one of his balls into his mouth.

“Take off your clothes,” Travis orders, in between switching to the other. “And turn over.”

 

 

Travis starts talking nasty. I mean, dark, greasy shit that makes George shake while he kicks off his shoes and jeans.

“When I’m through loosening up your tight little hole,” he says, still in that soft, gentle purr, “I’m gonna take my time pushing it in. I want you to feel the head pop through. I want you to feel it when I break open your pretty pink pussy.”

 _Have mercy, Travis. Please._ That’s you, by the way, talking to the TV.

George doesn’t say a thing. Bless his sweet heart, he does exactly as Travis said, lying face down on the black sheets. Glowing against them. He buries his face in his arms and waits.

“I’m gonna do it hard, Georgie. It’ll probably hurt, but I promise you’ll like it.”  He straddles George’s calves, still pulling his pud. He lets go of his cock to pull at George’s hips and raise him up on his knees. “Spread that ass, baby boy. Let me get a look at it.”

George takes a deep breath and reaches back. He grabs his asscheeks and pulls them apart, leaving red streaks as it slips away from him.

“Hold it tight, now, or I’ll beat you with your own belt,” Travis threatens.

Fingers clenching, George whimpers into the mattress.

Travis hums, trails both thumbs up and down the boy’s crack. “Oh, you sweet, baby. You’re so soft and pale, like you’ve never even been touched.” He puts the tips of his thumbs right on the bud. “You ever been touched here?”

George nods. “Yes,” he answers. It sounds miles away because of the bed, but you can still hear the crazy emotion in it.

“Anyone but you? In a sexual way?” Travis asks, and the camera goes in close so you can see him rubbing over the crinkly skin.

The angel groans and lifts his ass a bit more. “No.”

Travis licks one of this thumbs and pushes the tip in. He smiles at George’s gasp, moving it in circles just inside the ring. He gets it all in before George makes another sound, this one high and unsure. “George, baby, you got to relax it for me. You got to breathe. Make all the noise you want so I know you’re breathing, okay?”

This is whispered. It has a different tone to it, something warm and private. There’s a murmuring off screen, people talking somewhere close, but then there’s a hiss and it stops.

George’s shoulders rise and fall and as they lower, Travis slips his other thumb in beside the first. George makes noise, that’s for sure. It’s nothing compared to what he groans out when Travis sticks his tongue in his hole. He pushes back, arches, and looks over his shoulder. The big man grins and raises his eyes while he does it again, watching George’s face. He goes at it, wetting and stretching with his thumbs. George is moaning with every exhale, little ‘oo’s’ and ‘ah’s’ that sound as good as they look when the camera pans up to his face. When Travis takes out his thumbs to put in two of his fingers, those little moans get more pronounced. Still licking, Travis pushes his spit inside, working in a finger from his other hand to pull the hole more open. You can hear the strain starting in George’s voice, a ribbon of pain braided with the build-up to another awesome O, and you hold your breath. What happens next is pure magic.

Travis straightens and takes hold of one hip, then twists his hand. George lets go of himself to push up, almost sobbing from the hard pressure Travis has on his prostate. You get a good look at him again and… just, fucking fuck. He’s wide eyed again, his mouth is hanging open and there’s even a little drool in one corner. Travis does it again and George starts to move, fucking himself on those fingers.

“ _Jesus Christ._ ” That’s Travis. He’s saying out loud just what you’re thinking. “Turn over. I wanna watch you. I wanna see your face when I pop your cherry.”

George is clumsy and uncoordinated, having trouble getting his limbs to lift and support. Travis assists, grabbing his ankles and flipping him onto his back with one swift movement. He yanks the boy down to him and pushes his knees wide, pausing for a second to spit into his hand and wet his cock. The camera goes for a close up there and you can see now just how wet with pre-come Travis’ dick is, how much his hands are shaking. He’s way more affected than any top you’ve ever seen.

The camera doesn’t stay, though, an oddity that you only half-assed notice because the camera has gone up to George’s face. You still see it happening. You know what Travis is doing without the video because it’s all there. The feel of something so big pressing against such a small place is scary so George bites his lip. He’s concentrating so hard his forehead is wrinkled and you know he’s trying to relax. It starts to hurt and his eyes squeeze shut. He whimpers, then shouts, which means the head is pushing through. His groan is strained and he starts panting. Yeah, that first ring is ruined.

Travis spits again, you can hear it but not see it. Then George groans again and it cracks, turns into something that sounds like crying. One of Travis’ hands takes his shoulder and holds it and George grabs at his wrist. His mouth is moving, grimacing then biting his lip then falling open to let out a sob. He’s jarred, his whole body shifting and trying to move up the mattress but Travis is holding too tight. “Travis, it _hurts_ ,” George goans but it happens again. This time he wails, crying like a baby.

“Don’t fight it, baby,” Travis whispers. He comes down into the frame, slipping his arm under George’s head. “Let it break. Let it break.”

He kisses his boy, and you think of George as his now because it’s plenty obvious that he’s laying a claim here. While he’s got his tongue in George’s mouth he moves and it’s still too much. George sounds like he’s dying, muffled and stifled and still moaning as Travis starts to fuck him. He rips his mouth away and turns his head, and, yeah, that’s the last photo on the back. He’s crying for real, tears just streaming down his face. Travis watches him for a while, fucking him steady even as he’s starting to sob.

The shot widens and Travis shifts them around. He puts George’s legs over his shoulders and lifts his hips, leaning over and bending the boy in half. He stops with the gentle and goes for a power thrust and George goes quiet. Even his breathing stops. Travis does it again and there’s those big blue eyes, all wet and red but surprised, too. Travis takes both of his wrists and holds them down beside where his hips would be if they were on the bed. It’s a maximum fuck position, with lots of leverage and resistance where it should be and so he starts up again. This time, with a purpose.

If this were a regular porn they’d change position two or three times before the money shot. But by now you know this isn’t like any porn you’ve ever seen. They stay like that. The camera angle doesn’t change. The frame doesn’t shrink or widen. It just captures the glorious movement of Travis’ sleek, golden body fucking his beautiful, pale angel. It saves forever the moment when George feels it, starts to give it back, and when Travis smiles down at him it’s like the sun coming out after a storm.

For the last ten minutes you haven’t moved. Your hand is still curled and ready to finish you off and you finally remember it. Only because Travis is talking again, and it’s still nasty but it’s also sexy and lovely and almost embarrassingly romantic.

“God, you’re beautiful. I love seeing your face like this. I love hearing you cry. I wanna fuck you forever, there’s nothing else like you. You’re so fucking tight, I can feel your heart beating. It’s like it’s talking to me and I can feel my heart talking back to it,” he says, eyes locked with his boy’s. “I wanna make you come like this, with my dick in you, so I can feel it. I wanna make your heart sing to me. Sing to me, baby. Come for me.”

You’ve seen prostate orgasms before. You could name a couple of the films. They always look so intense, so mind-blowing, you wonder if they’re faking all that bliss. But George, the innocent, sweet angel who’s never had anything in his ass, wouldn’t know how to fake it. So when his eyes get hazy and his mouth goes loose and trembling, you feel it, too. When he makes that sound, a low, shuddering long-ass grunt that you know came from some place deep in his soul, your orgasm roils up and grabs you. Hard.

It’s shaking you while George splatters more come on his stomach but you can’t close your eyes to savor it. So you moan and quake with him, and Travis, who also has a dazed, slack-jawed look about him. He’s still fucking his boy, riding the clench and the spasms as George’s body goes through its big O. And what a big one it is. His cock is jumping around, still drooling come even though he’s covered in it. Even though he came once already. His face is red and shiny with sweat and he’s just groaning and grunting like an animal. He’d come half off the bed as it started and now he collapses, shuddering in time to Travis’ thrusts. His ass must be way tender now, super sensitive, maybe even painful. But he says nothing. He just stares up at Travis’ face like _he’s_ the angel.

Travis gets faster. His jaw tightens. He plows into George hard and fast. It’s drawing out more grunts, higher pitched like short-breathed whines, and even that is so fucking sexy you can barely take it. You finally fall on the pillows at your back as Travis makes a deep-bodied moan of his own and freezes. He’s thrown his head back and that golden hair is everywhere. With a growl he fucks into him three more times, deep and forceful, and then he goes limp. He has enough brain cells left to lower George’s legs before he falls forward, and seeing him there between those sprawled creamy thighs is almost torture at this point.

Again, you’re reminded that this isn’t your everyday porn. Instead of fading on out-of-mouth tongue kissing (stupidest looking shit EVER) or close-ups on a come shot (that didn’t happen), it stays focused on the two of them. Travis wraps his arms around George and kisses him like he’s air and Travis is drowning. I mean, _really fucking kissing_. The kind of passion you remember from theater back rows and Chevy pickup beds, when kissing was the whole thrill and not just the means to an end.

George finds strength it in him to lift his hands and dig them into Travis’ hair and the big guy _sighs_ into the kiss. It’s the happiest sound you’ve heard in months and it hurts and makes you smile, all at once.

You don’t remember if it faded out, or you faded out, but there’s a totally new scene on the TV. You think you might have fallen asleep for a minute. You sure as fuck didn’t pass out, right? That would be stupid. But here you see a big, shiny bathroom with a big, shiny shower. It’s all glass, with black and white tiles. A match to the bedroom. The shower’s being used so there’s steam everywhere and it looks like the camera is peeking in on something private. You can’t really see anything more than some blobby shapes reflecting in the mirror. But the mic on the camera is good and you hear soft voices, laughter, and the wet, slick sounds of more kissing.

Then there’s a “Gus!” from someplace off camera.

“Shit,” you hear, and it goes black.

You lift the remote, thinking a real nap sounds amazing, but the screen comes back to life.

George and Travis are back on that sofa. They’re so close George might as well be in the man’s lap. He’s tucked up tight, shoulder pressing into Travis’ underarm and Travis has his arm around George. One big hand curls possessively around George’s other shoulder. They both have huge grins on their faces. Happy, bright, and completely smitten grins.

“So, George, how was it?” There’s Gus again.

“Um,” and there’s the shy angel you first met. He’s back, but his blush is deeper and his eyes have a new light in them. “It was…it was, um…”

Travis leans in to whisper in his ear.

“Amazing,” George finishes, finally. He glances at Travis and giggles. “A little overwhelming, but really amazing.”

“It _looked_ amazing,” Gus says, and there’s laughter all around them.

Travis whispers to him again and George starts laughing, too. They exchange some wordless communication and George looks right at the camera before busting into more giggles. He leans forward to pick up a water bottle and starts to fidget with the top.

“If you ever want to do some more, we would be so happy if you would come to us,” Gus offers. It’s pretty standard post-fuck, reality porn talk, but the way the two of them are acting, it looks more like a first date show than porn. It’s cute. Too cute for the business. You start to formulate a story.

“I don’t know,” George says, turning his head to look Travis in the face. “I think…I think it would be pretty hard to top that.”

Travis smiles. “Impossible.”

“Well, I have a list of guys who will gladly take you up on it, should you decide.” Gus is working it hard. He’s smart, because this little beauty would be a solid gold cash cow.

The arm around George tightens, rubs his shoulder and his back. “We’ll talk about it.”

Travis just smiles wider when George puts a hand on his thigh, strokes it lovingly, and settles into his hold like it was made just for him. The shot fades to white with both of them smiling into the camera.

The next day, after a night of watching the video three times – start to finish – and uploading it on your pc for more in depth study, you check out the studio on the ‘nets. There’s not much, initially, but you hit the way-back machine and bingo!

You remember that big dark haired guy, hot as a mother fucker and badass written in every line of his hulky, hunky frame. The one who’d come across as such a mean son of a bitch but was found out to be a gentle, history-loving nerd. He was pretty awesome. A couple of faces look familiar, an adorable grinning blond, a tall as shit Daddy-type with a deep voice that no one could ever forget. His go-to guy looked like his own son. The director was a lanky European, though you’d have never guessed it from hearing him. He looked like a crazy uncle, the one you though was cool and funny and always had weird things in his attic. He had a nice smile in the pictures you found. Granted, they were over two years old, but you didn’t think that much would change.

The picture was with an article about the studio’s buy-out. There was a shot of the woman who bought it and she was a fine piece of ass, too, blonde and fit and looked like she could kick the shit out of you and make you beg for more. She had eyes like a cat and the nicest tits you’ve seen in a while, her nips poking stiff through the thin black shirt she wore. Just about made your mouth water. She was changing what they made, the article said, improving the quality and making more erotic films for women. The tentative name of the new studio would be Valkyrie. Appropriate.

So, you look up Valkyrie Studios.

The list of films is shocking. It’s all the great ones you’ve seen, with plots and real characters played by actors who actually acted and gorgeous sets and still with the penetration….yeah, this was where all the good stuff went. There’s the director, a little more balding but still smiling that nice smile. He had a tiny blonde woman on his arm and they were like spring-time colored Addams’. Just fucking kooky. Some of the actors had changed due to a tragedy. The giant Daddy and his ‘son’ weren’t there anymore, but another super tall guy with strawberry hair and bright green eyes had a photo with the plucky little blond from two years ago. Everything looked alright, really. Like it was a success.

But where were Travis and George?

You click through the site and there’s nothing until you reach the ‘thanks’ page.

And there they are. Smiling, angel-faced George is on grinning Travis’ back. They’re on a beach somewhere, in the shade of a palm tree. It’s a gorgeous pic that is absolutely ruined by the words beneath it.

“Our most sincere and warmest thanks go to the two who left us the means to pursue this dream. Without the help of Travis and George we would have never made it. We miss you both.”

You stare at it thinking _what the fucking fuck_ and _how the fuck did this happen_. You wonder why you’re so upset. Why you have tears in your eyes. It was just a video. Just two guys doing the nasty for cash. What the hell is _wrong_ with you?

How did it happen? Well, you look that shit up right then. And it gets sort of…weird. Stuff about a sabotaged car, deaths, a boating accident and no survivors. About bad people who were pissed that Valkyrie came to be. There were trials and sentences and conspiracy theories aplenty. Who made up conspiracy theories about porn stars? But there were some truly strange things afoot here, like why they were never found and how the boat fire started in the first place. The names of rival actors came up over and over and you _knew_ those names. Guys that were headed to something better who just sort of disappeared.

Then the religious cult came into it and you almost signed off. That was just too much.

A link caught your eye, though. “George and Travis alive and well!” it said. So you click it.

The video’s either from an upstairs window or a balcony and is a little shaky. It looks down into a backyard where nighttime party is going on. The place is decorated with lights and torches and its real pretty, romantic even. There are only two people left, swaying together the center of the empty chairs and table covered with cups and droopy flowers. You can barely see them, but then the taller of the two sweeps the other up off his feet. You see that smile and hear that laugh and _damn_ if you aren’t laughing, too.

You wouldn’t have recognized them if you’d seen them on the street. George has longer hair that frames his sweet face and a more substantial beard that detracts nothing from the angel quality of two years ago. The taller one drops him back down and spins them both and now you recognize that grin and those eyes, shining so bright you can still see them one house over. He’s clean shaven and short haired, totally respectable looking and looking damn fine in a…is that a tuxedo? Sure as shit, yes. A tux. And George is wearing one, too. Travis dips him like they’re on Dancing with the Stars and they kiss. And kiss. And kiss. And the video ends.

When you drop down to read the details, there’s an update from earlier this year. The story is just as dramatic and crazy as the nutjobs had said. Families in danger, extortion plots, threats, murder…shit you only see on CSI or Criminal Minds…so they dropped out and went into hiding until everything was safe. This was their official ‘coming out’ party (you snicker at that) and public wedding ceremony. Or the aftermath of it, anyway. The video was posted by a ‘pulling-your-strings-and-smiling’ but one of the comments below says “Hi Gus”. It’s from “TheVirgin”.

How ‘bout that…

You feel like you’ve lived a couple of lifetimes in one 24-hour day, but you’re smiling when you shut the laptop. Who knew?

Seriously. All you’d wanted was some porn.

Instead, you got an _epic._

 


End file.
